


A House Is Not A Home

by carefulren



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: David is a pure soul, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, and Max just needs a family that actually cares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 00:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11452227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren
Summary: Every winter, David likes to take a visit to Camp Campbell. He walks alone throughout the campsite and comes up with new games he can introduce to his kids next summer. This year is no different.Until he realizes that he's not alone this time.





	A House Is Not A Home

During winter, Camp Campbell is quiet, cold, unwelcoming. The trees are bare, giving way to pointy branches that jut out at all angles. The lake is half frozen with thin slabs of ice breaking off and floating about the surface of the water, and the ground beneath David's boots is icy and covered in a thin layer of snow.   
  
Despite this, David loves going. Every winter, he visits Camp Campbell. He likes to wander about the camp site and get lost in the memories from summer as well as build new ideas. He stops to stare at a bare tree that's tall and old and, to be frank, quite menacing. But, David looks past the half-frozen tree to see the future.   
  
He sees branches littered with dark green leaves, and he sees kids, his kids, climbing the tree while he and Gwen spot from the bottom to ensure their safety. The branches are positioned close enough to where the kids should have no trouble climbing, and David cannot wait to implement this new game once summer rolls back around.   
  
A light sigh slips past his lips, breath clouding in front of him. He misses his kids. Outside of camp, he's David: Cashier Number 3. During camp, he's Camp Counselor David. He's important; he matters. He's got multiple little lives with bright futures in his hands, and he absolutely loves it.   
  
Sure, he and his kids have their ups and downs, but that's what camp is all about. It's a learning process. It's a time to build trust and teach these young minds to grasp nature and stray away from a sheltered life of technology.    
  
He's sure that the others will grow to understand and maybe even have fun with time; the only one he's always so hesitant about is Max.   
  
His knowledge of Max only goes as far as a bitter attitude and a mouth that can make a sailor blush, but Max is like a broken jigsaw puzzle, and David wants to be the one to put the pieces back together. He's sure that once the gaps and cracks are filled, Max's puzzle will give way to a beautiful portrait of a bright young boy glistening with potential.   
  
But, it's a slow, step by step process. David knows this, but that doesn't stop him from getting consumed by thoughts on what camp games Max may be interested in. He's half-way through plotting out a scavenger hunt involving poor political decisions when a faint light filtering from a dusty cabin window catches his eye.   
  
David freezes in his steps, and his slight shivering against the chill of winter picks up as fear flicks at his heart. He's considered squatters before, but he comes every winter, and he never finds anyone. This is the first year he's been faced with the possibility of kicking some poor guy out of his camp cabin.   
  
Be smart about this, he tells himself as he shakes his arms and legs before starting forward at a slow creep. No matter the location, there's always a chance for danger, and he's not going to be caught off guard by a perilous situation, not with his years of camp training under his belt.   
  
When he reaches the window, he leans forward and narrows his eyes against the dusty glass to get a better look. He spots a small flame burning on the wick of a tiny candle he doesn't recognize. His gaze shifts toward one of the beds, and he can make out a small lump buried under a ratty blanket. He drags his gaze across the intruder, but when he spots a familiar tuft of wild black hair sticking out from underneath the blanket, a loud gasp slips past his lips, fogging the window in front of him.   
  
David sharply turns toward the door and throws it open, and the door smacks loudly against the wooden wall of the cabin. The sleeping mass goes tense before shooting up, and David's heart plummets in his chest when Max's large, green eyes lock onto his.   
  
"Jesus, fuck! What are you-- David!?"   
  
"Max," David says, the name trailing along a stuttering breath. His heart is hammering hard against his chest as he closes the distance between the two and drops to a crouch in front of the bed.   
  
Max moves until his back is hitting the cool, wooden wall behind him, and he draws his knees to his chest, making himself impossibly small against David's unreadable gaze.   
  
"The fuck are you doing here?" Max spits out between trembling lips.   
  
"I come every winter. Why are you here? Why aren't you home?" The words tumble off David's tongue and his eyes dart all across Max's face as if searching for an answer beyond Max's tan complexion.   
  
"I missed camp," Max says flatly with a deadpan expression, and David tilts his head and breathes out a low huff.   
  
"Max-"   
  
"Fine, I was sleeping."   
  
"Max!"   
  
"I've been here!"   
  
David's entire body goes rigid under the weight of the words. He wants to ask, to make Max elaborate, but he knows the truth even if he doesn't want to accept it. The bus that takes the campers home after summer never takes Max to a house; the young boy is always dropped off a block or so away from his supposed home. No one ever sees a house or parents, just a bus stop and a bustling street that Max always disappears into.   
  
But, still. David can't keep the small "why?" from slipping past slightly parted lips.   
  
A snarky comment is hot on Max's tongue, but the concern coloring David's eyes is pulling him in too deep down a rabbit hole he's never going to be able to climb out of. "I don't like being home."   
  
David takes a half second to let the words sink in before the questions are tumbling from his mouth. "Why? Do your parents hit you? Are they mean to you? Do they-"   
  
"David, shut the fuck up," Max says, voice holding a strong color of exhaustion not fitting for a young boy his age. "They just-" he tries, waving one hand about as he struggles to find the right word. "They don't care," he settles on.   
  
David's never been a fan of Max's vague responses, and he presses for clarity with a soft gaze that bleeds an unwavering encouragement for Max to continue.   
  
Max knows this look all too well, and he huffs out a loud sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose as if he's just been asked to solve all the world's problems. "You better fucking listen closely because I'm only going to say this shit once."   
  
David nods eagerly, which only heightens the sudden headache pulsing at Max's temples.   
  
"When I'm at camp, the people here care about where I am or what I'm doing or how I'm doing. My parents don't, hence why I'm able to stay here without a search party coming to look for me. They just don't care."   
  
"That's neglect," David says, voice a mix of fear and disbelief, and Max rolls his eyes and drops his head back against the wall behind him.   
  
"Yeah, no shit."   
  
"You can't stay here," David presses, and Max drops a dangerous gaze toward him.   
  
"Where am I supposed to go?"   
  
"Home with me."   
  
A biting laugh slips past Max's lips. "Why the fuck would I do that?"   
  
David stands up and drops down onto the edge of the bed. He leans forward and cups a hand to Max's cheek, frowning at the icy skin underneath his palm.   
  
"It's too cold," David starts. "You'll get-"   
  
Max suddenly sneezing has David's shoulders slumping deeply. "Sick," he finishes, voice low and thick with concern.   
  
Sniffling, Max rubs absently at his nose and shakes his head. "Nah, I'm good here."   
  
"Max," David warns, but Max only laughs against a weak cough at David's stern tone.   
  
"Was that supposed to scare me into saying yes? Because, dude, your authoritative tone needs some serious fucking work. Like-"   
  
"Come with me, or I call your parents. Take your pick."   
  
Max goes rigid, and he slowly drags his gaze all across David's face for a crack or target he can nail into. But, David's face is calm yet unyielding.   
  
"That's fucked up," Max breathes out after an endless minute, and David's features soften a fraction.   
  
"I'm sorry, but you really can't stay here." David tries, placing a gentle hand atop Max's trembling one.   
  
Max eyes the warm hand over his for an extended moment before he breathes out a low sigh. He's not a fan of being backed into a corner; this is a new low even for David, but Max gets why, even if he doesn't want to admit it out loud.   
  
"I hate you," he tells David as a form of defeat, and David is quick to catch on with a wide smile pulling at his lips.   
  
"I promise it will be fun!" David starts as he gets to his feet to allow Max to slide off the bed. "My apartment isn't that great, but I've got a play station! We can play games, and I can even buy you a Christmas present!"   
  
"Calm the fuck down," Max spits out against chattering teeth. Now that's he's out of bed, the startling cold of winter is seeping into his bones, and he's glancing back toward the small warmth of the bed when something large and heavy drapes across his small shoulders.   
  
David is already feeling thoroughly chilled without his coat, but he hides his shivers to the best of his ability because Max needs it more. "My car isn't far," he tells Max as he starts toward the door.   
  
Max stares for an endless moment, wondering why the hell David is so nice to him, before he secures the large coat around his trembling frame and starts after the older man.   
  
*****  
  
David stares hard with a frown etched across his lips at the 102.3 degree Fahrenheit reading blinking back at him from the thermometer.   
  
In the two days since he brought Max home, the young boy had gone from a small case of the sniffles to being laid up in bed with a worrying fever.   
  
He brushes a palm to Max's forehead with a low sigh. "You really must not be feeling great, huh?"   
  
"I'd feel better if you'd leave me the fuck alone," Max rasps out in between coughs. He wants to mean every biting word, but David's warm, grounded presence feels like the only thing keeping him afloat right now.   
  
David ignores this in favor of replacing a fresh, damp cloth across Max's forehead. His touch is careful and gentle, and Max sighs as the cool cloth eases some of the heat that's rolling off his face in steady waves.   
  
"I'll make some soup," David tells Max as he stands from his spot on the edge of the bed. He spares a moment to ensure the blankets are tucked tight around Max's trembling frame before he leaves the bedroom to go to his small kitchen.   
  
He moves through the motions of making soup as if on autopilot for his mind is lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do; Max isn't legally his, and while the young boy's parents don't seem to care, he's not sure if he can legally keep Max with him. There are too many technicalities that can wield risks, but he's got to do something. He can't send Max back to a family that doesn't want him.   
  
This legality stuff is lost against his simple mind, so he makes a mental note to discuss with Gwen just as he pours some of the soup into a small bowl and snatches up a spoon.   
  
To his surprise, Max is still awake and watching him like a hawk as he re-enters the bedroom. "Everything okay?" David asks as he places the bowl of soup on the night stand.   
  
Max weakly pushes up on his elbows and drags a narrow gaze toward David. "Don't get the wrong idea when I say this because I still hate your guts."   
  
David nods slowly as an invitation for Max to continue.   
  
"Thanks."   
  
It's one word spoken in a dull tone, yet David can almost physically feel the amount of weight driven behind it. He smiles wide, a clear contrast to Max's borderline permanent scowl, and nods.   
  
"Of course."

**Author's Note:**

> Help. I've fallen very rapidly into Camp Camp hell, and I can't get out.


End file.
